Mister Clean
by DracaDelirus
Summary: One-shot. Harry's 8th birthday. Sometimes all you need is a little fun.


**Mister Clean**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else that may seem familiar. In fact, I own very little.

Author: DracaDelirus

Warnings: mention of abuse.

Dedication: For 'johnapple' who figured it out how to do it, all on his own. You have my admiration :)

 **MRCLEANAELCRM**

Harry may have only just turned eight-years old that day, but he was already a veteran at strategically planning out how to accomplish the monumental list of daily chores, most of which had to do with either cooking or cleaning, or cleaning, or cleaning, or more cleaning. His aunt and uncle was almost pathological in their need to keep him busy, busy, busy.

"Just call me Mister Clean," he'd laughed at himself.

Washing windows was usually on his list of chores for Monday, but for some reason Uncle Vernon decided the hottest day of summer, was the perfect time for his nephew to climb up and down the ladder umpteen times in the unrelenting sun. It being Sunday also meant Uncle Vernon would be there most of the day to supervise. Something Uncle Vernon preferred, and Harry did not.

Harry shuddered. It never worked out to his benefit when Uncle Vernon was around to supervise his chores.

His uncle had instructed him that to do a perfect job he should do the outside of the glass first, then the inside, so he could check for streaks and spots on the outside as he cleaned the inside. Then go back and redo any areas where he left marks. It took almost six hours to do it this way, three for the outside, two for the inside, and another hour to fix any mistakes outside. His uncle thought this was perfect. Kept him plenty busy, and when he was done his nephew was usually too knackered for any funny business.

His aunt also made him polish each window after cleaning, with a bit of wadded newspaper. The newsprint helped take off any stray marks or fingerprints that he might have left. Because the last thing she wanted to see, when she looked out a window, was any evidence of her nephew having been there looking in. However, this was Sunday and Uncle Vernon like to leisurely read the paper off and on all day, so Harry didn't have any newsprint to use. Not that he minded having to skip this step, as it always seemed like overkill to him.

On Sundays, the Dursley's left for church for almost two hours, the same amount of time it would take him to do the insides. As he watched their car pull out of the drive, he made the rash decision to do the chore in the wrong order, so he could get the insides done without uncle breathing down his neck. He also had the added incentive of his aunt's promise that he could knock off for the day once this chore was finished, as his birthday gift.

Harry had no idea what he'd do with several hours to himself, but he was sure he'd think of something more fun than chores.

Surely, it wouldn't really matter, this one time, he thought. After all, he just cleaned them last Monday. How dirty could they have gotten in just six days? He only wished his aunt wasn't so obsessed with clean windows. Nevertheless – sigh – obsessed she was.

He kept at it doggedly all morning, and had just finished up the insides and was getting the ladder out of the shed to start on the outsides, when the Dursley's returned. The first thing Uncle Vernon did after getting out of the car, was to shout at him that he had better be doing a good job or there would be hell to pay. Harry wasn't sure what his Uncle Vernon learned at church in Sunday school, but 'charity begins at home' obviously wasn't it.

Juggling a heavy bucket of ammonia and water, and various cleaning tools, while climbing up and down the rickety ladder, was no easy job for the scrawny boy, but he'd worked out a system. He always started with the top floor, when he had the most energy. Knowing if he got tired, it was always better to have two feet on the ground when it happened. Experience had taught him that you had to think about those things and plan ahead, 'cause no one was going to call an ambulance if you fell off.

It was getting close to noon, and the sun was beating down on Number 4 Privet Drive, as Harry climbed up the ladder. After finishing the upper floor, he started on the ground floor windows, doing all the small ones first and leaving for last the plate glass picture window that framed the living room. He hated that window the most. Well, he didn't hate the window, he just hated cleaning it.

The other ground floor windows he could easily reach by standing on a crate he would haul around from window to window. However, the living room window was especially tall and he was especially small. The only way to reach the top part was by leaning the top of the ladder above the window and then making the ladder as steep as possible so he could still reach the glass as he climbed. He knew he had to be careful as one wrong slip with the ladder, and the results wouldn't be pleasant.

As it was a tricky job, he normally would have done this window as soon as he finished the upstairs ones, and before he did the smaller downstairs one, but this was Sunday, and his effort therefore 'supervised', so he avoided it as long as possible.

Uncle Vernon supervision, consisted of standing in the air conditioned living room glowering at him through the window the entire time he cleaned it, positive his nephew was going to put the end of the ladder through the glass each time he moved it down a foot. At one point Harry kept trying to flick a fly off the window only to realize it wasn't a fly, it was the large mole on Uncle Vernon's forehead on the other side of the glass.

"Oh well, he already thinks I'm an idiot," Harry shrugged and continued the job. Thankfully, he finished with the glass still intact, unfortunately he'd hurried through the job, the constant scowl from the other side of the glass making him go faster and faster.

He knew hadn't done the best job he could, but at least it was done. Dumping out the bucket of wash water, a feeling of dread came over him as he felt two very angry eyes boring into the back of his head. Reluctantly, he turned around to see an irate Uncle Vernon.

"What did I tell you to do today?"

"To wash all the windows, Sir. Inside and out."

"… and?" Uncle Vernon was getting more upset by the minute.

"… and don't leave streaks?"

"And did you?"

"I don't think so…," he answered quietly. Truthfully, he probably had, but he also knew he'd left a whole lot less than if the Dursley's had washed their own windows.

"You don't _think_ so, you don't _think_ at all do you?"

"Er… no?"

"No, what?"

"No, I guess not, Sir."

"Righto. That's because you're a lazy idiot, who can't even do a simple job right." Vernon's vice like grip came down on the boy's shoulder and propelled him roughly into the living room to critique his job.

"You should take pride in your work, and do it right the first time. How many times do I have to tell you that, for you to learn your lesson? Now look there… what do you see? And look there… and there!" with each 'there' he squashed Harry's face to the glass so he could get an up close and personal look of the damning streaks that were left on the glass of the picture window.

On the last 'there', Harry ducked out of instinct. Not expecting the move, Uncle Vernon tripped over his nephew and toppled out the window.

"AAAAAaaaaaAAAAA!"

Harry stood in the living room, his jaw dropped open, staring at his uncle on the ground outside. All the while he was being so kindly shown his mistakes, he'd kept expecting to hear an ominous 'crack', as the glass gave way under the assault, splintering into a thousand shards. But his uncle didn't seem to be hurt at all, just very surprised that he was now outside instead of in. Harry had a hard time not laughing at the gobsmacked expression on his face.

As it was he just smiled slowly, etching the picture indelibly in his mind, of his uncle lying flat on his back on the grass, limbs splayed, with the wind knocked out of him. It was an image he wouldn't soon forget, as it was the only time all summer his uncle hadn't been yelling at him.

For several minutes, the stunned Vernon Dursley was rendered speechless from shock. When he gathered his wits about him, he called out weakly, "Petunia? I think there's a hole in the house."

Harry's aunt popped her head out of a sparkling clean upstairs window.

"Vernon! What are you doing lying on the grass! Whatever will the neighbours think?! Get up this instant!"

"Yes, dear," he muttered, then seeing his nephew standing in the living room with a smirk on his face and doing nothing, he shouted up through the hole where the glass had been "What are you looking at? You'll be paying for breaking this window, and clean up this mess!"

"Yes, Sir," Harry said resignedly as everything went back to normal, thinking his free time was no longer a possibility. Some birthday, this.

He put on heavy leather garden gloves, drug a rubbish bin round to the front, to start picking up shards of glass from the lawn. It was going to take hours, giving him plenty of time to think about what happened, and what he could have done differently - an activity strongly encouraged by his relatives.

But… where was the broken glass? Looking over his shoulder to where the window used to be, he was amazed to see it was still there – streaks and all. It took him all of sixty seconds to decide he was done for the day and took off to enjoy his birthday gift of a few hours of freedom.

It was dark by the time he returned to Privet Drive, exhausted by happy.

He'd found a new neighbour moving into a house on Magnolia Road. Being new to the neighbourhood they didn't know to avoid him yet. Even better, their Golden Retriever had just had a litter of puppies! They hired him on the spot to play with the puppies all afternoon, while they carried in moving boxes. He'd have done it for free, but they insisted sharing their pizza with him, on top of paying him five whole pounds for dog-sitting! It was the most money he'd ever had at one time. Dudley had only gotten one pound on his birthday and he didn't get to have a pile of puppies licking him from head to toe. Poor Dudley. He almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Did you finish cleaning up the mess you caused?" Uncle Vernon snarled coming into the kitchen where Harry was getting himself a drink of water.

"Yes, Sir," he nodded still smiling to himself over the puppies.

"And did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon, I think so."

"And what do you _think_ you learned this time?"

"Do it right the first time, Sir," he answered dutifully, knowing that was the lesson his uncle had attempted to teach him earlier.

"Too true boy, too true."

After his uncle left, Harry patted his pocket where the five pound note was and smiled that it wasn't going to pay for a new window. He'd had a great birthday after all.

What he'd really learned was, that despite what his aunt and uncle thought, there were far better things in life than having clean windows - puppies, pizza, and pound notes in your pocket, just to name three.

~fin~


End file.
